Trauma. Over the past two days I have been thinking a lot about trauma.
This week, I went to Spokane, Washington to speak at the Southside Community Center. I was welcomed on Wednesday evening by a crowd of 210. They listened and absorbed the stories of Sam and Esther Goldberg and a few of the miraculous things that happened to me during my research and writing process. It was a fantastic event with meaningful and interesting questions. I was moved by the crowd and by the response to my presentation. I want to thank Lynn Terry and her amazing team of volunteers.
During the question and answer period, we discussed the lingering signs of trauma that Esther and Sam exhibited. Then someone mentioned the importance of speaking about the Holocaust in schools. Assuring them that speaking in schools is part of my mission, I mentioned that I would be speaking at Freeman High School the following day. A hush fell over the crowd and then a solitary, brave sole, raised her hand.
“You should know,” she said, “Freeman High School had a shooting there in 2017. They are suffering from their own trauma.”
“Yes, thank you,” I answered, “I am aware of the shooting.”
I had looked up this tragedy before leaving Seattle, to remind myself what type of school shooting it was (sad statement that we have so many that I cannot recall which was which!). I was reminded that a student who was angry at being bullied and who knows what else, brought a gun to school and shot and killed one student, Sam Strahan, and injured many more.
Then, Thursday (yesterday), I drove 30 minutes out of Spokane into the “valley.” Ten minutes into my drive, I found myself on a road empty of cars, barren of houses, with only a few farms that sporadically appeared – as if out of nowhere. This is the definition of rural Washington. I was following my GPS, of course, and as I got closer to Freeman High School, I wondered how there could be a school here in the middle of nowhere. But then the school came into view on the right side of the road – a large, beautiful brick building emerged in the barren landscape. I turned right into the driveway and easily found a place to park.
I pulled up the parking brake in my rented green Subaru Forester and got out the car. As I walked down the pathway towards the main entrance, something in the garden next to the building caught my eye. It forced me to stop and pay attention. It was a jumble of painted, colorful stones. I thought, “oh, how sweet.” But then I saw the stone in the back – it read;
In Loving Memory of
Sam Strahan
Bravery & Selflessness
My breath caught in my throat as I realized that Sam Strahan was the boy who was shot that day in 2017 by his fellow student.
I took a deep breath at the front door and pressed the buzzer for entry. I spoke to 100 students in their gym. They sat respectfully on the bleachers. I only had 40 minutes. I mentioned that Monday was the 75th Anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz and International Holocaust Remembrance Day. Then I launched into Sam and Esther’s story of survival, finishing with their arrival in NY harbor in May of 1949 and a final quick word about my family trip to Poland in 2016. The bell rang its obnoxious ring and my time was up. But I had one more opportunity to speak to students. I met with a subset of the 100, about 25 students, in their classroom on the first floor.
They asked good questions and I did my best to answer. A few parents came and they had wonderful points to contribute. At one point in the discussion someone asked about Sam and Esther’s life in America and how they managed to go on after what happened to them.
I thought – “if there is a moment to raise the issue of the shooting, it’s now.”
So, I discussed being immigrants in NY with, at first, no English and no money and how they suffered from the trauma of what happened to them during the war. I suggested that there are many kinds of trauma and each person’s trauma is different, but very real. I told them that I knew that they had suffered a tragedy a couple of years ago with the shooting and that I have no doubt that the trauma of that day lives inside of them. I told them that they are free to bring up their feelings or not, as they wish.
I was not surprised when the room fell silent. Their faces fell as their own personal trauma rose to the surface for a few seconds. I could feel the air change in the room. Pia, the teacher, told me later that a few kids in this class had older siblings who had been injured during the shooting, so it was very real for them.
The final question was from a student who asked, “shouldn’t look at both sides, especially about Hitler, because he had such a hard childhood with so much rejection in his life.” I responded that he is right, Hitler had a difficult childhood and was rejected many times. He lived for several years in Vienna and he wanted to be an artist. He was not successful. He was certainly exposed to Jews in Vienna and it is there that he may developed his intense hatred of Jews.
[here is a short article from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum about Hitler’s early years:
https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/adolf-hitler-early-years-1889-1913]
I told the class that Hitler found his “voice” and calling as a political speaker, not as an artist. When, in 1923 he attempted a coup against the German government, he was arrested and put in jail. It was there, at the age of 34, he wrote Mein Kampf, and set down his Jew hatred in writing and set the course for his political career. I suggested that today we need to try hard not to make people feel rejected and outcast, because they may search for meaning down a different path. Hitler’s path of hatred led to a world war and the murder of six million Jews.
The obnoxious bell rang again, and I thanked the students and the teacher for having me to their school. The kids ran out – hungry for lunch.
I thanked Pia for inviting me and got back in the Forester and drove back through the empty landscape of Eastern Washington. I had time to think about the students and the world they find themselves in today. So much has changed since 1923, when Hitler attempted his coup, but so much is the same. We still have much to learn and much work to do.